KHAAAAAAAAN!
by Stormthewomanofthexgroup
Summary: Left behind by his emperor, Shaitan devises a scheme to take over Wakanda as Storm and offer the Vibranium to Khan as penance for a failed mission and get back to his home dimension, but will meddling Xmen get in the way?
1. Chapter 1

Title: KHAAAAAAAAN!

Rating: M for reasons that will become obvious.

Genre: Humor

Summary: BECAUSE YOU DEMANDED IT! Left behind by his emperor (that he has an unhealthy obsession with), Shaitan devises a scheme to take over Wakanda and offer the Vibranium to Khan as penance for a failed mission and get back to his home dimension.(one shot)

I don't know if this is slash or not because of the circumstances.

FYI: My Shaitan watches a lot of VH1.

Comic Shaitan: Was a general of Khan (an interdimensional warlord) and was placed in the form of Storm for the purpose of fooling the X-men into not knowing Storm was actually in the care of Khan- who wanted her for his queen. Still with me? Basically, Shaitan is this super strong ghastly evil alien male stuck in a human female's body. And he's referred to as a he, even though he's in a female body.

All characters used in this fic belong to Marvel Comics

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Shaitan was beginning to regret avoiding the debriefing on his new body. Then again, he never imagined he would become stuck in the disgusting weather witch's form here on Earth while _she_ cavorted with his beloved emperor… He unclenched his teeth and concentrated on the task at hand- there was a horny human male in the next room expecting him to provide some kind of sexual service but Shaitan had no idea where to even begin.

He angrily crushed a small metal canister in his hand and unwished the pills he'd popped to get himself through the past few weeks. The drug, Dipthum, was a performance enhancer provided to all of Khan's warriors, although heavy usage tended to leave the memory spotty and behavior erratic, it helped tremendously with repressing painful memories and emotions as well- helping to harden warriors after their kills. He'd gone through his last one to walk down the aisle in a boned corset and was now left to fend for himself in drag, fully lucid, as Ororo Munroe: Queen of Wakanda.

As he stared into the cool, clear glass of the mirror, it reflected that strange and alien body, with its shocking white silken mane, and voluptuous and graceful curves covered with soft, supple flesh the color of the finest coco; he couldn't help but cautiously poke at the space between his legs and wonder what the wet squishy part was good for except for inconveniencing him once a month with cramps and chocolate cravings; and the two chunks of fat on his chest couldn't possibly be less interesting, but they appeared to have a hypnotic power on human males, especially over that damned Gambit, and men couldn't tear their eyes from those gelatinous orb like protrusions. _Primitive human bodies…_

"Ororo?" T'Challa called from the other room, and Shaitan grew ashen as his blue eyes instinctively searched the room for a weapon, any would do, but found only a sack in the wastebasket next to the marble vanity.

"Just a minute, honey!" He frantically dumped the contents of the trashcan on the floor and held the procured bag over his head in triumph. _A good warrior is never un-resourceful! _

Shaitan stood in the entrance of the doorway to the king's chambers, now fully robed in red silk and eyeing T'Challa playfully, taking in his magnificent male form; taunt with anticipation, rippled with every slightest movement, the sinuous veins, his massive chest tensing with every breath at the sight of his wife. It was awakening unfamiliar feelings in this human female body of his and he fought valiantly to hide the mixture of anticipation and horror he felt wracking him to his core, "Hey, baby? I'm thinking something kinky tonight. Will you put this black silk bag on your head?"

"Uh, that's not silk. It's plastic." T'Challa raised an eyebrow at Storm's attempt to be brazenly saucy.

"Silly me." Shaitan giggled, rummaging behind him and pulling out a burlap sack that had old laundry in it. "I guess this will have to do. I hope you don't chafe easily. But it is custom of the people I have been born of…"

"I never heard anything like--"

"Do not question me, honey. It is a tradition kept very secret, because I am from the lineage of priestesses, and requires the consummator of my marriage must be a man without a face."

"Isn't that a Billy Idol song?"

"I don't think so." Shaitan closed the tie around the sack tightly, secretly aching to strangle the life from the man before him, but resisting. All good plans require appropriate pace, and now as not the time for the death of the King of Wakanda. "Now, you may sow your manly seed in my womanly dirt!"

"Right…" T'Challa answered, slightly muffled and thoroughly confused from within the burlap sack, and wondering how long he had to stay blinded to please Ororo. _This smells like dirty underwear and gym socks._ But far be it for him not to suffer for the woman he loved and uphold her traditions sacred to her.

Shaitan curled up on top of the bed against a mountain of feather pillows as he watched T'Challa fumble blindly from the foot of the mattress.

"Um, Ororo?" T'Challa asked, "Where are you?" He listened intently, tuning his senses for the slightest sound and prepared to ravage his new bride for all she was worth in her little game.

"Here I am- Rock me like a Hurricane!" Shaitan said in the huskiest voice he could muster as he tore his silk robe off and threw it at his husband. T'Challa took the cue and lunged for him.

Despite having a bag over his head, T'Challa was quite deft and agile, quickly wrestling Shaitan down and his hands began to travel his wife's body. Goosebumps appeared on 'her' arms and legs and Shaitan immediately realized how useful those 'fat chunks' were as under T'Challa's touch, moans escaped uncontrolled from his quivering flushed female form.

_For how inferior these bodies are, this pleasure is excruciatingly exquisite! _

He gasped involuntarily as T'Challa consummated their marriage with one fell motion of his scepter of manliness, and their bodies immediately intertwined by instinct, trying desperately to become one.

"I love you, Ororo…" the bag whispered.

_For the love of God, shut up! "_Let's get it ON!" Shaitan roared zealously, flipping T'Challa on his back with inhuman strength and straddled his husbands gyrating pelvis, bucking against him with the ferocity of a rhinoceros in heat.

As Shaitan's human body responded in ways he never fathomed, his mind began to wander against his will, forcing him over the edge. _Damn, I wish this were Khan... ohhh… mmm... Khan... oh my God, he took the bag off his head... think of the power... the power... power... _"KHAAAAAAN!" he shrieked at the top of his lungs, his glistening bosom heaving as the spasms of climax rippled through his body.

T'Challa paused in mid stroke, brown eyes wide with horror, "What?"

"Nothing."

"You just screamed 'Khan'!"

"No I didn't," Shaitan rolled his eyes, "Well, not quite. I just became so, um, enraptured with the spell of your manly magic you work over me that I merely slapped King and T'chazza together. Simple mistake."

"T'chazza? T'chaZZa!"

Shaitan's frazzled mind thought fast, "You don't like your pet name?"

T'Challa eyed her suspiciously, "Just call me by my name."

"Can I call you Khan? It sounds so cute… and it will remind us of tonight." he laughed, enlivening his mesmerizing mammaries to work their hypnotic voodoo on his target.

T'Challa sighed. For how scatterbrained Ororo was acting, if they didn't continue he was going to have the worst case of blue balls in the history of mankind. "Not outside the bedroom, ok?" T'Challa began rocking his hips against Shaitan, who returned the motions with unreserved fanaticism.

_Victory! Bwahahahaa!_ "Do not worry… baby… ride the pony and satisfy your funk… where were we?" he asked breathlessly, as another wave of pleasure placed him at the mercy of T'Challa's mana_khan_da. "Oh yeah… KHAAAAAAAAAN!"

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Musical References:

"Eyes Without a Face" by Billy Idol

"Rock You Like a Hurricane" by Scorpions

"Let's Get it On" by Marvin Gaye

"Ride the Pony" by Cheap Trick

Anyone else think of Captain Kirk from Wraith of Khan throughout this?

_Dedication:_ For those who felt the marriage between Storm and BP was shoddily done, this is for you.

And major thank you to my anonymous helpers for the exceptionally naughty bits- you know who you are!

NOTE: This was originally posted under 'elfkid's account but has been moved to the new 'stwotx group' account since it is a collab by me and eightcrayondon.

**Thanks to Batman.Wolverine, Frique, Darlin, and Wahinetoa for not only reviewing chapter one, but the nicety of your reviews of chapter one!**

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	2. Chapter 2

Title: Khan!

Author: Odd Chapters by Elkid and Even by Eightcrayondon

Chapter: 2

Pairing: Shaitan (storm) and Black Panther

Summary: Shaitan has assumed Ororo Munroe's identity in the 616 universe and in a bid to return home he had married Black Panther to obtain the valuable Vibranium.

Shaitan has found that using his middle and forefinger as a team is much more satisfying than T'challa's short lived appendage. His grunting always seems to distract Shaitan from his patriotic pursuits and if he is not anything else, he is a loyal servant to Khan.

He begins to sing "Khan The Conquering Hero", his national anthem and as he nears the end, he wonders, while fornicating with Kahn is Storm too is able to reach the elusive high note at the end of the song.

"Ororo?" T'Challa says, knocking on the bathroom door.

"What do you want?" Shaitan screams in response.

"Are you coming to …"

"I would but you're screwing up my concentration! Salute the General on your own!"

He exhales, looking at his reflection in the mirror; repositioning his leg so that it's lifted and resting on the sink. He closes his eyes imagining Khan at the flanks; atop a magnificent steed, in full body armor addressing the troops. His white hair billowing untamed on the wild wind, the perfect violet shade of his soft supple skin ...

Another knock at the door.

He lowers his leg to the floor in an almost stomp and rushes to the door; flinging it open, angrily.

"What?" he screams, naked and glaring into T'challa's widened brown eyes.

T'Challa is speechless, standing at the threshold; mouth agape.

"WHAT!"

"I," he hesitates. "I was just feeling cheeky, I wanted to know if we could … if we could do what we did last night."

"Are you crazy? That hurt!"

"How about .."

"That tastes repulsive, no!"

"Well," T'challa considers his words carefully, "when will you come out?"

Shaitan smiles, trying to affect a smile. He remembers that his true goal is to satiate this inept man and collect the vibranium that could send him home.

"You wanna grease up the break pads tonight huh, Khan?" He says, closing in to touch the back of his head. "Grease them up and make them squeal?"

T'Challa's expression becomes flirty and he raises his head, looking into his wife's blue eyes. Their faces are so close and he knows that she's teasing him; withholding a kiss.

"Storm," he says smiling, "what has gotten into you girl?"

"Wakandian Kielbosa."

T'challa was befuddled by his wife's strange new references, if she asked him to pour milk on her cunt chocula again he would have to have her seen by a psychiatrist.

He pushes her against the wall, fumbling with the buttons on his clothes. He breathes hard looking into her crystalline blue eyes, wetting her with sloppy kisses.

"Hey," Shaitan says coyly, already pushing T'challa down by the shoulders. "How about you give my whisker biscuit a kiss?"

Storm had not ever been so aggressive; she was never a prude but at some point something had to have been livened in her. She seemed so eager; like a man.

"There's a storm a coming!" Shaitan screams.

_Later…_

Shaitan sits in the palace's library, writing into the burlap journal he'd received as a wedding gift from the plucky redneck woman with the odd skunk-like attributes. He figured that smelling like rotten potatoes should be far more than enough to align herself with the small mammal, alas she seeks out a bad colorist to seal the deal.

_I have come no closer to finding the Vibranium. T'challa has taken every caution in making sure that his precious metal is secure. I am not sure if I can take this much longer; I enjoy his "Magic Stick" but I feel peculiar when he embraces me afterward and then he talks to me about the most mundane things. On more than one occasion I've closed my eyes, pretending to be asleep. _

_What's more concerning is that it has become more and more difficult for me to be kind to this man; he wants children and of course I objected; I am not even sure if this body could support a human pregnancy. I have read in American literature (Cosmopolitan) that after childbirth my saddle bags will deflate and head south, thus reducing their hypnotic powers, a skill that I am proud to say that I have mastered. _

_The Wolverine phoned today, he did not have much to say and I wonder what his motivations were; it's obvious to all that he cares deeply for the weather witch. On more than one occasion I have been able to manipulate the beast by using my upper arms, guiding the udders just so that he does just as I demand. No wonder the boy scout was never able to tame him. _

_Then there's the Cajun; when he hugged me farewell I felt his Magnum PI pressing against my thigh and I can assure any that ask, it was definitely loaded. _

"Ororo?" T'challa interjects, peeking into the library.

He wears the white wig and purple body paint that Shaitan had requested earlier.

_I will finish this entry later, there are matters of state that I must attend to._

_**A/N The terms 'cunt chocula' and 'whisker biscuit' are terms borrowed from Bastet, the context in which they were used belong to me, however as a gay male I don't know any of the pet names for vagina.**_

Also we changed the screen name to this one but couldn't let go of our reviews so here they are for this chapter:

IMHO Nienna  
2006-08-18  
ch 1, reply This was a little funny not so much as the 1st chapt though because it was confusing to me like what was the heshe doing to get Wolverine to do what she wanted by moving her arms & guiding the udders? Sex or just showing them off? And like what does this mean cause I was completely lost here: He begins to sing "Khan The Conquering Hero", his national anthem and as he nears the end, he wonders, while fornicating with Kahn is Storm too is able to reach the elusive high note at the end of the song. A pretty raunchy story!

wahinetoa  
2006-08-18  
ch 1, anon. ROTFLOL Oh. my. goodness.

Whisker Biscuit? Bastet is just eeviil. Another chapter that cracked us up! smiling from ear to ear Loved the wee inclusion of Logan and Remy, my word, they'll all need to see a therapist after this one. LOL.

Udderly winks gorgeous.

WONDERFUL!

batman.wolverine  
2006-08-16  
ch 1, reply Aw...this is just sick.

Its so sick, that its freakin' GODD! (Well, except for that Remy reference...hmph. A-Hole, what he did to Rogue..hmph.)

Anyways, looking forward to more of Shaitain and her...I mean, his Kingly Husband!

BW

Elfkid  
2006-08-16  
ch 1, reply I bow before your skills of humor, and am thrilled you took up the torch for this chapter- it's fuggin' hilarious! I would also like to stress those terms for the female anatomy required research, and are not my own choice of nomanclature- lol! (except the cereal parody- that one I claim whole heartedly). And of course, I love your pop-culture reference to Gambit's PI. The is nothing quite like fish out of the water Warlords is there! Especially ones that watch VH1- lmao!


	3. Chapter 3

Lots of accents, helps to distinguish between who's talking- believe me!

1 iced cappuccino too many and a sadistic muse later, I feel I should warn you now, that as the fic goes, on, it is becoming apparent that NOTHING is sacred… no matter how juvenile, mind boggling, or crass.

_-----------------_

Chapter 3 by Elfkid

"_So, Queen Ororo, what would you say has been your biggest revelation, since achieving your new status?"_

"_Well Katie, there's nothing finer than having a vagina…"_

"_Pardon me?"_

_Ororo chuckled, "Oh, you were referring to my queenly status? Where is my head?" she winked an eye and tossed flowing platinum locks of hair over her shoulder, placing her hands on the knees of her primly crossed legs…_

"Elf… have you noticed somethin'… different bout 'Ro?" Wolverine asked, clicking the TV off.

"Other zan zee fact she told Katie Couric 'it feels like zee first time, every time' when asked about married life?"

"Well, yeah, that is just plain weird. But when she laughs… somethin' ain't quite right…" There had been some recent peculiar things about Ororo that didn't add up. Prior to her brief courtship with the king of Wakanda, her behavior had become erratic, more impulsive but there was something else he couldn't put his finger on.

Wolverine's thoughts faded to the months he had spent helping to rehab Ororo after she had damaged her spinal cord.

_He'd heard the most horrendous song blaring from the TV, a squalling melody by Prince, and felt that if he were to survive the night, it would have to go. The music was like ice picks to his ears, sharpened to a fine point and the same warm fuzzy feelings as a stab wound to the ass cheek._

"_Ro, Darlin…" he opened the door and his jaw dropped, cigar tumbling to the floor as Ororo bounced on the couch, in full satiny buck-naked glory, shouting the song at the top of her lungs._

"_Little Red Corvette-ah! Girl, ya drivin' much tooo fast!" Her eyes caught up with his blue ones and she thrust her pelvis at him, "Hullo, Logan… I've got an ass like you've never seen and need a love that's gonna last… how's that healing factor of yours?"_

"_Ro…?" He was beginning to think more than her spine was damaged against Khan._

_She hopped over the back of the Italian leather sofa, landing soft as a cat on all fours, breasts heaving up and down. "The Little Red Corvette needs an oil change…" She grinned lasciviously._

"_Um... I'm going to go…" he turned and the door shut with a gust of wind, blocking his exit._

_For all the things he had seen in his life, all the horrors he had witnessed, nothing could ever prepare any man for what happened next. "Oh my fuckin'…"_

"_Vroom Vroom, Wolvie, baby!" she growled, 'shifting gears' with her right hand and taking off with her pelvis in the lead._

_Mind struggling to grasp the situation, he ran from Ororo, who in her crazed state, chased him around the room with her 'little red corvette', screaming out sounds like a child with a race car while gyrating at random intervals around the corners of the room. _

_All thoughts of her health abandoned him as he fled around the room, trying to think of how one could get themselves out of a situation like this without involving lacerations. In the moment he became distracted, he tripped on the area rug, face planted onto the coffee table, splintering it; the familiar taste of rust filling his mouth from a busted lip that healed within seconds. _

_Ororo's shadow fell over Logan and he turned to meet his maker, standing over him in the form of an ebony goddess, "I'm gonna burn rubber on your face!" she bellowed, eyes blazing white orbs, electricity dancing in the air._

_Suddenly, the song on the TV shut off and she jerked her head over to the screen, the insatiable lust in her draining, "Oh! Would you look at that, Video Killed the Radio Star? This appears important..."_

_Wolverine silently crawled away, eyes never leaving the back of her head. He feared any moment her head would start rotating and, he might see her eyes flash red, accompanied by a laugh with the deep robust joviality of Satan himself…_

The rear window to the rec room shattered and a figure clad in black leather bondage gear tumbled in, glass flying everywhere. It appeared he over judged his somersault and hit his head on the slate pool table. "Merde!" He grumbled, stumbling to his feet, shaking glass shards from his black leather duster. "When was de pool table o'er here!" He turned to address his comrades, arms outstretched, "Yo, Nightcrawler… wassup?"

"Mein gott, Gambit?" Nightcrawler raised an eyebrow at the formally lobotomized white haired, coal skinned Death.

"In de flesh!" he jumped over the couch and sat between the Fuzzy Elf and Canuck, snagging the remote.

Wolverine's eyes narrowed, a slight growl in his throat and claws popped from his knuckles, drawn on the intruder. Despite the shock of the return of Gambit, he was still Death, minion of Apocalypse, "What the hell do you want?"

"Same t'ing as you two." He clicked the TV on, Ororo still raving about sex with T'Challa, and obviously making the reporter uncomfortable. "I want t' put some cream in dat coffee… but dere's somet'ing wrong wit' it… like its decaf…" Death noticed no one understood and he sighed, "Jus' watch her laugh."

Simultaneously, all 3 men stared as the glorious velvety laugh erupted from Ororo, sending her breasts into a tumultuous wave of hypnotic jiggly goodness, two perfectly formed orbs wiggly fresh from the jell-o mold… Death paused the TiVo.

"See?"

"I'm sorry, vhat?" Nightcrawler asked, shaking his head out of the trance.

Wolverine pounded an angry fist on the armrest. "I knew it! Those aren't Ro's breasts."

"Exactly. Y' see, Ororo has a rare mutation, rendering it impossible for t'ose breasts t' be replicated t' exact perfection… I tried… for 3 damn months in Sinister's lab, wit' all de cloning technology of a demi-god, never acquiring de proper consistency… I was actually driven SANE by my quest for de excruciatingly sweet perfect texture, taste, and wobbly excellence dat only de breasts of a goddess possess…" a single tear ran down his left cheek.

"Don't worry buddy, we've all been there." Logan patted his shoulder. In all actuality he hadn't been there, but even in the mind, Ororo's breasts were difficult to recreate… the two perfect chocolate pudding cups... he suddenly wondered how the Cajun knew what Storm's breasts tasted and felt like. "So we got to track 'Ro down… cause if that ain't her… then it could only be…"

"Shaitan." Death finished.

Anger crept into Nightcrawler's voice, "Zen ve have too assume Ororo is still vith Khan!"

"Oui."

"Shouldn't vee tell T'Challa?"

All three exchanged glances, "Nah…"

Uatu the Watcher appeared, prompting the men to suddenly wonder what recourse their actions would have on the rest of their universe.

"Why are you here?" Logan asked tentatively.

"He won't answer you," Death snorted.

Uatu tugged on Death's leather duster and kicked him in the shins. "Don't speak on my behalf, gas bag. I too have watched many things over the universe and never once come across a stately rack like that on Ororo Munroe, of 616 MU…"

The two heroes and one semi-villain exchanged knowing glances, enraging the little man.

"I watch other things besides superheroes! Don't think because I'm a bald bobble-headed dwarf in a blue chrome studded cape and sparkly blue vinyl rain boots that I don't 'watch' the Playboy mansion… because I do… all up in your ass! Now, as you all noticed I was at the 'wedding the century' as was advertised over the whole darn Earth. And let me tell you, the only astronomically impactual ramification from that wedding was the bad case of night clowns erupting from my lower intestine over those spicy hors' douvres. Woo, my gut was in knots, and THANK the heavens for teleportation and empty restrooms, don't you just hate it when you go to do your business and some schlub is in the next stall over? Oh wait, I just realized that was the back of a cab… well that's kind of embarrassing."

Death coughed, Wolverine scratched his head, and Nightcrawler looked at the ceiling.

"Hey, guys, a little sympathy here. I don't get to talk much and when I get started, I just run with it. Where was I? Oh yeah, Ororo's breasts… mmm…"

Cable burst into the room, shattering the other remaining window in the room, "Hey guys! I came as fast I could!" He rolled around on the floor, aiming his gun at every corner, eyes darting around shiftily. Satisfied, he sheathed it at his side. "So, are we still talking about Ororo's breasts? Cause man, I have the greatest story… Why is he here?" He pointed up to Uatu who was now hovering near the ceiling.

The door to the rec room flew off its hinges, Forge looking mighty pissed, "Why are _you_ here? I thought this thing was a 'no Summers allowed' event."

"Nothing stands between me and a good pair of boobs!" Cable spat, taking a boxer's stance, "Wanna go, Foghorn Leghorn?"

Forge's face winced in disbelief, "Oh… kay… I have no answer for that insipidly poor and irrelevant insult."

Suddenly, a green cloud of gas filled the room, the nauseating stench of sulfur and old broccoli permeating the room. Everyone looked at Death. Death pointed to Nightcrawler.

"It was me." Uatu beamed proudly, hand raised and chest puffed out. "I would apologize but is it not a robust and magnificent beast?"

His comrades chocked and gasped as they hastily exited the room, gasping for fresh air.

Almost immediately, Cameron Davis AKA Slipstream cruised in on his surfboard, "Hey guys, I know I'm late but I'm ready to hunt boobies…" The rancorous scent of a skunk marinated in expired milk, and moldy burritos invaded his senses, blurring his vision and throwing him off course, "Ah, dude, that's nasty!" CRASH! He collided with the TV, nearly passed out, the oxygen slowly being smothered out of him from Uatu's deadly emission.

He struggled to breathe, vision fading, these last raspy words parting from his lips, "Ro's buds…"

-----------------------

"Ororo, dear… do you not think it would best to keep your bedroom activities with my son in the bedroom?" Ramonda, T'challa's stepmother asked.

Shaitan raised an eyebrow, "Whatever do you mean, mommie dearest?"

Ramonda couldn't help but notice the comment was not meant to insinuate Faye Dunaway's witchy rendition of Joan Crawford, but was rather being used innocently… _the innocence of a half wit_, she noted. "Your sexual escapades with my son should remain private. You should refrain from mentioning it to anyone other than between yourselves. As Queen of Wakanda, you are not only representing the country but MY SON with your behavior. I do not want him viewed as a silly little play boy with little concern beyond his penis because it is all you can dwell on. Have you no shame?"

Shaitan became indignant, was this human woman chastising him? "To be honest, it is all I seem to be used for, to create a new heir for the Wakandan throne. I am not some brood-mare pack animal. I am a warrior, woman! I have more than a uterus to offer this country and if that is all I have to give that is of interest to him, then it limits my conversational topics when asked about my contributions to this kingdom!"

The older woman's irritation was growing with her daughter-in-law's inappropriate and inexplicably bizarre behavior. How could a woman with the repute, accomplishments, and prestige of Ororo Munroe be so incorrigible? _I need to find out who Charles Xavier uses to spin his press…_"Is this really how you feel?"

"Yes." Shaitan stared out the limousine window, wondering how much longer he could endure this torment.

"If you promise me to present yourself in a more… demure manner in public forums from now on, I will speak with him on your behalf, since you appear unable to present the issue to him yourself." She did not like having to bargain with Ororo but the behavior had to stop immediately and she doubted T'Challa would welcome criticism of his new bride.

"You would do that for me?" Shaitan's blue eyes widened and tears began to form in his eyes, a confusing sensation of happiness and a forming connection with the woman surging through him. It disgusted him and he couldn't stop as the corners of his mouth pulled into a half smile.

Ramonda sighed, hoping Storm wouldn't hug her; she looked very well ready to. "Perhaps it would be best to introduce you to the Vibranium mines and how they fuel our economy. After all, how would you understand the country if you do not learn from the ground up what has revolutionized our way of living?"

Shaitan leapt at Ramonda, gripping her in a hug that threatened to squeeze the life out of the older woman, "Oh, thank you! Thank you so much!"

Ramonda gritted her teeth, gasping for breath, "It is no problem, my dear. Please… release me…"

"You know, Ramonda… I've never noticed before but you have Bette Davis eyes." Shaitan sniffled, looking shyly at T'challa's step-mother.

Ramonda opened her mouth to say something and then closed it, _Bette Davis eyes!_ Her brow furrowed and she just patted the young lady on the shoulder and turned to look out her own window, casting one last cautious glance over her shoulder before flattening herself against the door, as far from Ororo as possible.

There was something seriously wrong, and for the sake of her son and country, she would get to the bottom of it and find out exactly what kind of _freak_ Miss Munroe was...

The rest of the limo ride to the airport was draped in near silence, Shaitan humming the theme song for "Greatest American Hero" repeatedly while Ramonda contemplated how she would go about consulting the Panther God on his choice of bride for her son.

It was very taboo to question the decisions of the Panther God, but she felt she had no choice. She looked over at Ororo once more, found her eyes drawn to the woman's breasts ready to pop out of her formal dress and she shuddered. Despite her history, the current queen of Wakanda came across as nothing more than a common gold digger, where did things go wrong?

As Shaitan began another round of 'Greatest American Hero' Ramonda sighed. The 8 hour flight was going to be a long one.

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Songs referenced this chapter:

"My Vagina" by NOFX

"Little Red Corvette" by Prince

"Video Killed the Radio Star" by the Buggles

"Bette Davis Eyes" by Kim Carnes

"Greatest American Hero" by Joe Scarbury

"Ro's buds" is a play on "rosebud" from the movie Citizen Kane


	4. Chapter 4

The gala was expansive; billed as the "Wedding of the Millennia", uniting the 616 Universes premiere black protagonist and a low rent racially unspecific inter dimensional war zealot.

All of the tables were adorned with ruby red ice sculptures of Aunt Jemima as centerpieces. She was flummoxed when Kahn explained that Jethro's World Famous Hot Sauce was used to color the sculptures.

For catering Khan was able to abduct workers of Madripoor's only Popeye's chicken; a feat that to his chagrin, did not impress his Ororo. In fact all of his attempts to create an atmosphere that he felt would most remind her of home have gone unnoticed or received an almost perplexed response from the Queen.

For entertainment he had coveted Fifty-Cent, however, Khan found the rappers military forces to be adequate enough to keep the royal guard at bay. He was forced to enlist the services of a white rapper; K-Fed, who was more than willing to embrace the spotlight.

"Greetings Majesty." A small portly man said after approaching the royal couple, his wife's arm locked into his.

"Greetings Erecile and Dusfuncion." Khan replied, shaking their hands.

_Erectile Dysfunction? _Ororo ponders, completely flummoxed.

"So," Erecile says, pausing as though he is considering his words. "This is your bottom bitch?"

"Ah yes, the lovely Ororo," Khan gestured to Ororo and she managed an awkward smile.

_Their idiocy is the only weapon I have._

"I look forward to the first dance," Erecile says, smiling suggestively.

Dusfuncion laughs and says, "yes all of Court would love to see you roll that ass like a twenty-four, Queen Ororo."

Ororo offers an affirmative eyebrow raise.

The night ends on a sour note, the chitterlings were definitely an acquired taste and the smell of Louisiana hot-sauce left her nostrils raw.

"Soon, my dear," Khan began, speaking over her shoulder, helping her to undress. "Shaitian will have liberated the Vibranium from the Black Panther and her will return home, your friends will believe to be dead."

"Who is the Black Panther?" Ororo asks, turning to look into his eyes.

"Why your husband, my queen," he says, laughing. "King of Wakanda."

She seems to mulls the identity of her supposed husband for a few seconds then her eyes suddenly light up, "you do not mean the bird chest boy that I saved from the clutches of death ten years ago do you?"

"That is he."

"Married," she says, speaking to herself and not Khan, swelling inside with hope. She is positive that her friends, her family will have recognized the ill match and are devising a plan to rescue her.

"It seems even, that your friend Logan helped to organize the bachelors party and that Xavier gave you away," Khan continues, unzipping the back of her dress and kissing the nape of her neck.

_Huh? Shouldn't they be torturing the imposter for information?_

"Your husband has retold your meeting and it seems that at thirteen years old you and he," he pauses to consider. "Well he hit them skins."

_Huh! _Ororo thinks, peering into her memory. "T'challa was a late bloomer."

The hope that had settled itself in her chest had become despair. The people that she consider her friends and family had failed her. Aside from passing comments Ororo had not ever even mentioned the Black Panther, beyond glancing. to any of the X-men. How would they believe that she would marry T'challa; he is an honorable man but there has never been anything romantic between them. They have shared trysts, yes, but honest romance has never been a part of their rapport.

"What will you do with the Vibranium once you obtain it?" Ororo asks, nestling close to her husband.

"Who knows," he replies, looking to the ceiling; he had been asking himself the same question for months. "I'm not too sure what it's uses are but apparently Wakanda and the Black Panther consider it to be, how do you say ... big shit."

_What an imbecile. _Ororo sighs, keeping her head close to his chest.

"Maybe," Khan says, considering. "I've always wanted spinners on the fighter planes."

"That would be dope." Ororo replies.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5 by Elfkid

"There, I'm done." Forge tossed a ratchet into his tool box, beaming proudly at the fully restored, glistening, banana yellow 1968 Chevy Camaro ragtop convertible. It had taken several hours but thanks to his mutant ability to create any technology he desired, the men's mission was more than underway- it was halfway done.

Wolverine folded his arms across his chest, one eyebrow raised, examining the car and then eying its Maker. "It's nice, Forge, but we need an inter-dimensional transporter."

"This is it! You said we needed something to fit all of us and, you don't get much more bitchin' than a Camaro. I tune the radio to the dimension we want, and when I turn the headlights on, it will activate a gate reaching to Khan's dimension."

"I am no scientist but… if zeh portal is generated by zeh headlights… vehn vee drive forward, vouldn't zeh portal move forward as vell?"

"Damn right you are no scientist. It opens the portal, doesn't generate it. Germans and their physics, sheesh…"

"Einstein vas German!"

"Quiet, you! I bet Einstein didn't spend a year in inter-dimensional limbo with only Ororo for company… huh? Huh?" Forge gloated, much to the blue man's irritation. "Now, I just need something uber-powerful to jump start the gate." He looked to his team mates for help who came up empty handed. "Oh come on! No energy wielders here? At all?"

All the men exchanged glances. Among their ranks, they had a hairy feral man, a teleporting former priest, a former energy producing rico suave that was now a gas producer with a bondage fetish, a telepath with big guns , a 'maker'- whatever the hell that was-, and a 3 foot high Watcher who… watched things for a living.

He threw his hands in the air. "We're screwed."

"Well… all I have to bring to the table is this." Uatu fished around in his pockets and produced a plastic medical cup filled with a phosphorescent yellow liquid. His stubby legs pitter pattered across the concrete floor and he extended on his tip toes, gingerly setting the vial on the pristine hood of the car.

"What, pray tell, is that?" Forge asked, lifting the cup up to his face for closer inspection.

"Thor's drug screen test from the Avengers."

"Aw, sick!" the cup plummeted to the floor, saved by a dive from Uatu.

"Watch it you cretin! What? Why is everyone looking at me like that?!"

"Cause ya got Thor's piss in yer pocket, bub!" Logan wrinkled his nose.

"So… Tony Stark said it was rumored to promote hair growth. Have you seen the mane on that guy? Like Fabio meets Medusa kissed by the morning sun! Besides, anyone else have something mightier than the golden brine of a god?"

There was more awkward silence from the group and the uncomfortable clearing of throats. Uatu was definitely going to have to go sometime soon- the man –er, watcher- just wasn't right and when it got down to basics, he was cramping their style- chicks do not cream for midgets who carry golden showers in Tupperware.

Forge donned welding goggles and then proceeded to slip on rubber gloves, snapping them against his wrists and shrugged. "Seems legit," he unscrewed the lid of the cup, and poured the contents into the gas tank.

"Well boys, here goes nothing." They all took their places in the convertible, Forge at the helm, Wolverine riding shotgun with Uatu, unfortunately, sitting on his lap as the front only had bucket seats. Death, Cable, and Nightcrawler piled into the back, small as it was, and managed to locate and secure their seatbelts.

Uatu stared at the hair covering Logan's arms and chest, strands poking out of the top of his white wife beater shirt, Wolverine becoming very unsettled at the attention. "What are you staring at, tiny?" He was somewhat smug about being able to call someone else that for a change.

"You have lots of hair, might I inquire of what shampoo you use to maintain your pectoral coif?"

Wolverine almost… _almost_ threw Uatu's head into the dashboard. "Uatu, if you say one more word to me unrelated to this mission, especially regarding my 'pectoral coif,' I am going to give you a lobotomy through your ass." He popped out one glittering adamantium claw and Uatu turned to stare out the windshield.

"Let's ROLL!" Death howled, receiving a peculiar look from Cable.

"You don't get out much do you?"

"Non. Hey, did I tell y' 'bout my quest to duplicate and mass produce Ororo's breasts?"

Cable perked up, he was always up for a good boobie story, and a future home shopping network bargain, "No, do tell…"

The engine whined up, a guttural roar rivaling the Cerberus thundering from under the hood, electricity dancing in the air; the potency of the Thunder-God's kidney nectar evident as it satiated the Camaro's lust for energy.

The headlights flipped on, a hazy purple portal appearing before them. He floored the gas pedal, the car tossing back in a wheelie, smoke billowing and the odor of burned rubber stinging their nostrils. The tires caught, snapping their necks back, and they rocketed off through the fully materialized portal.

Forge struggled to steer the inter-dimensional machine, muscles straining against the G-force's tearing through his body, "Holy frozen margaritas, Logan! Thor could usher us into a new age away from fossil fuels and nuclear energy! Such a pure, organic renewable resource, flushed down the toilet everyday! I wonder if there is a way to seek higher potency from different beverages injested…"

"BRAKES! BRAKES!!" Logan hollered, unconsciously squeezing the life out of Uatu (who was taking the time up close and personal to Logan's pectoral coif to try and catch a whiff of his choice shampoo).

Forge smashed the brake pedal and killed the engine as the car slid headlong towards a statue of Khan, tires squealing until it skidded to a complete stop, chrome bumper tapping the base of the idol. "How did I fail to anticipate…"

"I think I just failed in my pants…" Uatu whimpered, causing Wolverine to deposit him over the side of the car door.

"Everyone ok?" Logan asked, checking the passengers behind him. Cable looked like someone gave the famed 'Summer's stick' a less than gentle shove further up his anal cavity while Death sat leaned back in his seat, cool as cucumber before his stomach caught up with the abrupt stop and he began puking over the side of the convertible. "Where's Elf?"

BAMF! Nightcrawler appeared on the hood of the car, tail twitching. "You didn't expect me to stay for zeh impact did you?"

"No but ya coulda taken one o' us wit' ya." Death grunted between retches.

"Logan can heal, Forge can rebuild himself, Uatu's immortal, and Cable, well, he's a Summers. He'll just get cloned by Sinister or somezing."

Death glared. "You are such an asshole, y' know dat?"

"Why does everyone keep saying 'Summers' like it's a bad thing?" Cable vented, "I've worked hard to be where I'm at! Do you know what it's like being the savior of the world? It's a heavy burden! But you know what? I deal! Until some jerk-wad starts blaming me for my genetic lineage and the sins of my father!"

Death rolled his eyes, "Yadda, yadda yadda." The green gas appeared once again, the stench of sulfur permeating the air and Cable passed out. Everyone looked at Uatu. Uatu pointed at Nightcrawler.

"Now dat one, dat time was me. Like you all didn't want me to- wit' de way he was goin' we were gonna hear about de damned Phoenix saga again, in full Technicolor detail, and possibly with Emma Frost bein' possessed this time."

The remaining party members nodded, not just in agreement, but for not wanting to suffer the vociferous wraith of Death's well processed burrito by-product.

Now, as it stood, with their telepath out of the game, it was up to Logan's nose to track down the captive Storm. Logan felt like he was surrounded by a bunch of bumbling idiot frat boys and he considered eviscerating them all right there, blaming it on his berserker rage, and keeping Ororo to himself. He eyed them all carefully, it just might work….

Morality prevailed.

Logan sighed, "Let's go team, we got ourselves a hooter hunt underway."

----------------------------

Shaitan hummed to himself while brushing out his glistening, silken platinum locks. He had just exited the shower, having had a long day at the Vibranium mines and refinery station. Despite having desperately wanted someone else besides his earth husband to conduct the tour, he couldn't catch a break and had to listen to Black Panther drone on and on about the importance of the mineral to their economy and it's origins for Wakanda. He didn't care, all he wanted was to know what it did and why everyone on earth wanted it, so he could either steal it for Khan or destroy it in a blaze of fiery glory in his name. "Ohhhh, _Goddess,_" the thought made him shiver with delight.

His plan was coming to fruition. He had his bargaining chip to claim his rightful place next to Khan, now it was a matter of contacting Ororo. From his time in his home world, he knew that the each Royal mirror was equipped with video feed as a means of communication. Khan had seen something similar to it on the main deck of the USS Enterprise and insisted it be installed everywhere across the empire. Needless to say, he bored of it in a week and the project was all but forgotten but it was Shaitan's godsend.

Carefully, he dissected the walkie-talkie he had managed to steal from the mines and began to merge it with the communicator from his home world. Rewiring the circuitry, he held it in place with some chewing gum and then inserted the quartz from an old watch of T'challa's and an unrefined Vibranium rock chip to amplify the signal. He proceeded to program the destination with the walkie-talkie keypad and then affixed it to the mirror.

There was a zap and a fizzle and the he saw a forming image of Ororo but then it died, having drained the batteries. A twitch began to form in Shaitan's right eye as he suppressed a raging warrior scream, he was so close! He smashed his blow dryer and the ground and untangled the cord ripping it from its harness and jamming it haphazardly into the device and then plugged it in to the wall.

The palace lights dimmed lit up brightly, an overhead bulb shattering, then dimmed once more before returning to normal. He was in business.

Slowly, the fuzz faded away from the mirror and he was greeted with… himself, surrounded by the evidence of Khan's stately glory. "Weather Witch!"

Ororo did a double take and realized who was before her. "Hello Shaitan, what a pleasant surprise. I see you doing well."

"I have something you want: The King of Wakanda" Shaitan growled and Ororo raised a snowy brow haughtily.

"You can keep him."

"What?!"

"I don't know why you were so desperate as to chase after a man I've barely known a week my entire life, even if he is a king. Believe me, I do have eyes and ears still in your dimension and know what you have been up to. As it stands, Shaitan, I am the one with more bargaining room. I have something _you_ want." She pointed at a painting of Khan and Shaitan's cheeks felt hot from more than embarrassment. Not Khan, not his beloved, delicious, cream smothered Khan.

Shaitan's jaw tightened and he seethed, resenting the mirror image she was of him, her confidence and poise in this same skin, having not endured all he did as the wife of the King of Wakanda. She was such a bitch. "You wouldn't dare."

"That is where you are wrong. I would, and I can. I am considering staying here as the empress. He is nothing less than accommodating and his, how should I put this, _royal hardness_ is a bit more impressive than earth men." Ororo licked her lips and winked.

Shaitan leaned forward on the marble vanity, the cool surface was like ice on his temper heated palms. "Don't cross me weather witch or I will throw down with you and yank that weave from its tracks."

Ororo glared, primping her hair, "You must be tripping. This is no weave."

"Bitch, please. You ain't foolin' nobody- if I'm wearin' a weave, you're wearin' a weave." Shaitan tossed his hair over his shoulder, reveling in Ororo's confusion, the fruits of his nefarious wit, and continued, "If it is not the Panther you will kneel for it is his people." That touched a nerve. Ororo's fists clenched at her sides and Shaitan knew he gained his foothold against her. "I hold his subjects at my mercy, their very livelihood is in my hands to destroy and I will not hold back. They mean nothing to me and everything to you- innocents are your weakness. That is where I will always come out on top."

"On top? Again?" Black Panther poked his head into the bathroom only to receive a silver hair brush flying at his head at 60 miles an hour. His wife glared at him from the doorway, busom heaving up and down, nostrils flaring and static charges dancing in the air from her anger.

"Baby, is everything ok?!"

"Don't come in, I'm pooping!" Shaitan bellowed, slamming the door and leaving T'challa a bit weirded out by the fact his wife was not only defecating standing up, but while looking at herself in the mirror. "Um, ok. If you need help with anything… let.. me know…" _Why did I just offer to help her poop?!_

"Your grace under pressure is extraordinary."

"Thank you."

"Look, I don't have time for this, I have a Popeye's Chicken grand opening to attend and if I waste more time with you I am going to be late…"

"Darling, who are you talking to?" Khan entered her chambers, leaving Shaitan speechless.

"Khan?" Shaitan squeaked, pressing up against the mirror. He was just as beautiful as he remembered, chiseled eggplant torso, biceps the size of Christmas hams and the honey glaze of sweat causing them to glisten. Shaitan knew he had just finished his daily work out on the elliptical, when Khan was at his most glowing (next to battle of course).

Ororo cleared her throat and turned, back pressed against the mirror to hide her rival. "No one. Just practicing my speech."

"We will not be attending the ceremony, I have received word that there was a hole ripped in the inter-dimensional fabric and… oh wait, you must not be able to understand me, let me rephrase. Ahem. The shit is fucked up and crackers from your 'hood are encroaching on my territory… boo."

Ororo hung her head, rubbing her temples with her hands. "Why are they here?"

"For you. There is going to be a rumble. My boys and I will be rolling through the 'hood representin'. Look, I got a new piece! I'm packing serious heat." He showed her a handgun and she smiled weakly. "You will remain here, in the crib, you feel me?"

"Yes, Khan…" Ororo shoved him out of the room, "Just let me finish up in here. Good luck with your drive by, honey."

His eyes got wide and he shushed her, "Baby, keep it on the down-low. I don't want the po po interfering."

"You are still emperor, are you not?"

"Yeah…"

"Then you don't have to worry about the five-o." She shut the door and leaned against it, trying to muster the strength to continue bargaining with Shaitan. She decided she had only one request, only one person that could make this bearable and that would be the only thing she required to trade places with Shaitan. Shaitan could have all the Popeye's banquets, hot sauce fountains and purple drink he could fill himself with- she wanted no part of it.

"Shaitan?" The mirror was silent, gone was the Wakandan palace backdrop and her reflection returned her every move, Shaitan had left. Quickly, in lipstick, she wrote backwards on the mirror, a message Shaitan would get if he tried to contact her again and that Khan's subjects were too stupid to realize it was English written backwards. It was only two words but she knew they would suffice.

It would have to. But for now, she turned her attention to more pressing matters: locating the other X-men before Khan and his posse did.

----------------

Notes:

Song:

"Bitchin' Camaro" by Dead Milkmen

Cerberus- giant multi headed dog guarding the gates of Hades


End file.
